


whole lotta love songs

by resurrectdead



Series: unrelated tales from the (batcave) bunker [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Canon Compliant, Castiel Does Not Understand (Supernatural), Castiel in the Men of Letters Bunker (Supernatural), Crack, Domestic Fluff, Domesticity in the Men of Letters Bunker (Supernatural), Dorks in Love, Drabble, Drabble Collection, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, Fix-it fic, Fluff and Humor, Flustered Dean Winchester, Helpful Sam, Implied Sexual Content, Jealous Dean Winchester, Love Confessions, M/M, Making Up, Texting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-13 10:42:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29152185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/resurrectdead/pseuds/resurrectdead
Summary: ”Can you explain what you said?””Her deceit is still in the conversation rectangles,” Castiel explained solemnly before Sam pulled the phone towards himself. ”I asked her to tell Dean I love him, and. She said that. Exactly that. I should have saidyou,but I certainly don’t think of Siri in these ways. She could have misinterpreted."or: Dean gives Castiel an iPhone and he slowly, confusedly, becomes acquainted with the Siri function. Why does she not do what he tells her to do?
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: unrelated tales from the (batcave) bunker [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2139837
Comments: 8
Kudos: 86





	whole lotta love songs

**Author's Note:**

> I told my Siri "can you tell Dean Winchester I love him" and she said sorry I don't find a Dean in your contacts, I laughed about it with my girlfriend who then filled in more reckless texting they would do, and thus, it was written. And it was beautiful.

Castiel did not understand iPhones. 

The cellphone he’d obtained previously was simpler and worked just as fine; it had buttons, for one, some of which he could use to navigate into a section the phone called _Contacts_ , where he could press the first option and have Dean’s voice almost instantly answering him with a greeting. This was the only necessary function of a phone to have, he was sure. 

That is, until Dean had told him Nokias were _bricks_ and had promptly given him _(stolen for him)_ this large _glass_ bar instead, that went very cold in his hands when temperature dropped, that lied about battery percentage during said drops in temperature and even stopped to allow its function like some sort of playing dead mechanism. It was large and more clumsy. Dean said if he dropped it the screen would crack. Castiel didn’t see the appeal. He liked his so-called brick. 

Besides, it _must_ have been a good phone because Castiel had never heard of bricks full of electric circuits, apart from maybe houses made of bricks. But phones were small. Such science was beyond man. He suspected Dean just wanted to be able to send him the little yellow faces that so often filled their conversations via text message these days, which he’d also had to grow accustomed to. (Dean also sent a purple vegetable sometimes next to a yellow hand clenched to a fist. Not recognizing the vegetable or its apparent importance, Castiel just let him continue as long as it made him happy.)

Though, since Castiel didn’t perfectly understand iPhones, he also, consequently, did not understand the tiny woman who now lived in his phone bearing the name of Siri. 

He had found her trapped there accidentally, when he had held the only round button the New Phone offered too long, a distant conversation from the TV almost drowning out her pleading; _”I didn’t catch that, could you try again?”_ Castiel had been shocked to discover he was holding a very polite british woman hostage. 

Demanding to Dean that they take her out of her glass prison, he had laughed, in a hearty sort of way he does, and Castiel understood he didn’t see the severity of the situation when he instead suggested he could change her to a man, or that she could be in any language that he wanted. Castiel didn’t understand why she should go out of her way like that for him, until Dean explained, pedagogically, it was just a robot. He called it artificial intelligence. Then he showed Castiel he could ask Siri anything, and she would give the answer. 

So, she was a _genie_ , or something. Castiel had nodded thoughtfully while taking his phone back stiffly into his hands. He honestly still didn’t get it. 

Later in the bunker, Castiel had wandered off to one of the empty rooms to sit down with the tiny woman, for an intelligent exchange, whether artificial or not. Apparently she would make his wishes come true, so he decided to start easy, holding the button until her spirit materialised as a small, turbulent ball of vibrant colours above where his thumb now rested. 

”Hello, Siri,” he rasped, eyes narrowed in both suspicion and concentration to do this ritual well. 

”Hello, Castiel,” Siri answered cheerfully. Dean must have previously informed Siri of his identity, so it didn’t strike him as uncommon. She didn’t sound like she had any ill intent at least and had never shown herself to be hostile towards Cas, so he calmly continued. 

”Why does Dean like cowboys?” he asked her, very loudly and clearly enunciated. 

Which was a trick question. Only Cas could know why Dean liked cowboys, because he had explained the whole reason once - after a few repeated movements of throwing the contents of a small glass of clear liquids into his mouth with his head tipped back, then wincing, then continuing to talk - when he had been naming movies and franchises and clothing and historical dates Castiel had witnessed in first-person. Siri would never be able to retell it all. 

He could also have asked more pressing things, like: _How do I bake a pie for Dean? Who is Joe and why is he sloppy? How do I adopt cats without Dean being angry? Where is the stairway to heaven located? Why does Dean call me baby what did I do does he not know I’m millions of years old?_ But he would try these another time. 

As he’d suspected, Siri announced she had found something, but it was only a list of unrelated websites. Castiel nodded. 

”It’s okay,” he told her loudly, chuckling a little politely, ”you don’t have to look, I _deceived_ you, but I did not mean any harm.”

Siri buzzed back. ”I’m not sure I understand.”

Castiel shifted with a sigh. Siri wasn’t as intelligent as Dean had once made her out to be. He decided to try a task he knew she could follow through. 

”Can you tell Dean to have a good day?” Castiel asked her, and his phone opened the text conversation full of yellow emojis (and one astray purple vegetable).

Siri sent the message for him: ”Have a good day.”

Castiel smiled, triumphant. This was a good way of showing affection. Dean was already out of the house, away on an errand which Cas could suspect was to buy some take-away for dinner. It made his chest feel warm thinking of how he’d look down at the icy glass bar retrieved from his jeans pocket and see that Cas was thinking of him. 

He leaned back and sighed. What else could he say to his beautiful Dean?

”Siri,” he started again, ”can you tell Dean, I love him?”

And Siri wrote: ”Dean, I love him.”

Castiel flinched away from his phone, eyes wide. ”Wait, no. _No_ Siri, this isn’t right, that’s not what I asked of you.”

”Sorry, could you repeat what you said?” Siri pleaded, but in Castiel’s honest opinion, she didn’t sound very sorry. 

Had Siri betrayed him? Had she gone _darkside_ like Superman? Admittedly, Cas still didn’t really know what this phrase meant, other than that it was a _bad_ thing. But maybe he shouldn’t accuse Siri of atrocity before he knew for certain. 

But Dean already had the bubble with three dots moving, indicating that he was composing a message to Cas in return. He blinked at the screen, anticipating. 

_”?????”_ Dean wrote. 

Castiel thought that, if Dean could fly like Cas could, he’d already be in the room to demand an answer. But the Impala was fast. And Dean was fairly reckless sometimes. Cas looked up at the cement wall beside him and imagined the sound of the crash as the headlights would come breaking through. 

Maybe Cas should fly to the store himself and buy Dean the purple vegetable as a peace offering? No, he should deal with the issue at hand and not be led astray. But what could be done? Maybe he shouldn’t have deceived Siri like that; she really had just avenged him. 

_”Who is HE????”_ Dean demanded in a second text, and Castiel sighed helplessly. 

He scrambled out of the room and towards the kitchen table where Sam sat pouring over a book. 

”Sam, Siri has forsaken me.”

Sam slowly looked up, brow furrowed. ”My condolences?”

”Thank you.” Castiel pulled a chair and sat down heavily opposite him, hands conspiracal in front of him on the table. ”I need your help. Dean thinks I love another man.”

This made Sam slam his book shut. _”What?”_ he barked. ”What the hell did you do?”

”I didn’t do anything, I told you.” He put his phone onto the table with the same distaste he deeply felt towards it. ”I put my trust in her and she didn’t comply with my pleas. She’s a very evil genie.” He squinted, pondering. ”Maybe I outdid my wishes. Do you know if there is a limit?”

Sam was busy burying his face in his hands. ”Oh, sweet baby Jesus.”

”He has nothing to do with this,” Cas deadpanned. ”Sam, must I really remind you this is very urgent? I haven’t explained to Dean it’s not someone else I love, but him. What should I do?”

Sam rubbed his face, as if he didn’t want to surface again. Then he drew a hand through his long hair with a deep, painful sigh. ”No, you’re right. Okay.” He cleared his throat, gesturing towards the black screen. ”Can you explain what you said?”

”Her deceit is still in the conversation rectangles,” Castiel explained solemnly before Sam pulled the phone towards himself. ”I asked her to tell Dean I love him, and. She said that. Exactly that. I should have said _you,_ but I certainly don’t think of Siri in these ways. She could have misinterpreted.”

Sam read the text and bit his lip, then he let the laughter escape. ”Oh, Cas,” he moaned, ”this is _terrible.”_

Castiel glowered. Who in this world could he trust? Clearly only Dean, who he had now let believe it wasn’t him he deeply loved, that it wasn’t him he longed for to return so he could kiss him, him he wanted to go to bed with and share warmth amongst.

”Wow,” Sam declared unhelpfully. He shook his long locks and put the phone down. ”I miss simpler times when he just texted you pictures from his recipe book.”

”You should know I was very frightened to discover he knows how to make a _cake_ out of me,” Castiel countered, wide-eyed. ”It encourages me not to get on his bad side, which I now unfortunately have.”

”Dude, again. Angel cake is _not_ made out of angels.” Sam sighed, exasperated. ”And _baby oil_ is not made out of _babies_ , we went over this, but anyway. Okay. Okay, you know what, I’ve watched enough romantic comedies, we can fix this.”

Castiel attempted a smile. That did sound promising. He had watched a few before, like the one when a man (who Sam had said looked like Cas) became prime minister of England and had affectionate feelings for the secretary, so in the end they kissed in the backside of a theater but a curtain fell and everyone saw. Something else happened in the middle there. And it wasn’t very relevant to the current situation. And Cas wasn’t a prime minister and Dean wasn’t a secretary, but it ended with a kiss, so that was very much correlated to Castiel’s end goal. In conclusion, Sam was very trust-worthy with this matter. 

He happily took his phone back while Sam conspired, and then he noticed Dean had texted another message. 

_”Who is HE????”_

Castiel tilted his head. Could Dean _see_ them? Did he not recognize his own _brother?_ Perhaps something had tampered with his memory, which would work in Castiel and Sam’s favour, because maybe he’d get a chance to explain the situation for him as it actually was. 

_”It is Sam”_ Castiel replied, of course. 

Then realised, that was an _old_ message he hadn’t responded to. 

He’d just told Dean he _loved Sam._

”Oh no,” he said out loud, dropping the phone onto the table in a state of panic. 

”What _now?”_ Sam whined, still not recovered from the last bravado. 

”Dean thinks I’m in love with you,” Castiel explained, matter-of-factly, and it sounded even worse when he said it out loud. 

”Okay, you know what.” Sam took the phone and put it away into his pocket. ”You’re banned from that. No more texting, young man.”

”I’m very much older than you.”

”Yeah. Gross.” Sam pulled a face which Dean had previously described to Castiel to be his _bitch-face_. Castiel didn’t agree that he resembled a female dog, but he recognized it nonetheless. ”Do you want my help or not?”

”I do.”

”Okay, so. We’re adults. Some more so than others... Why don’t you call him and just tell him it was a mistake?”

Cas glanced at Sam’s pocket. ”What if Siri changes my intention again?”

Sam tilted his head from side to side. ”Yeah, no, I kind of also don’t have faith in that you wouldn’t majorly fuck up again so, you’re probably right in refusing that.”

Castiel nodded seriously. He would begin to make good, calculated decisions again. 

”So what do we do?” Sam mused. He shrugged half-heartedly. ”Write him poetry.”

”I can tell him my love for him is like honey. It can be kept for thousands of years if stored correctly.”

”Ew,” Sam blurted out with his face scrunched up, “do you speak from experience?”

”Well, no, I’ve never been a bee farmer. Perhaps I should entice him with the offer we _should_ have a bee farm together.”

”I think that’s just your dream, Cas,” Sam told him sagely. ”That sounds like a very nice marriage, or retirement plan. But I don’t think Dean is enticed by bees.”

Well, this was going nowhere. But Dean hadn’t called them a _chaotic duo_ a few days prior without a reason. At least Castiel couldn’t imagine he had. Dean usually had very good explanations for anything. He kind of wished momentarily that he was here, to solve the quarrel. 

“Okay, so a strong _no_ to poetry. We’ll tick that off the list. I don’t think I’ll let you write ever again to be honest. Uh. What about _songs?_ That’s like, poetry that’s already been done.” Sam moved his arms as he searched for words. “A mixtape that explains how you feel?”

“Would be… a whole lotta love songs,” Castiel said with almost a wink.

“Hey, that’s not so bad,” Sam laughed. Then he shook his head. “Fate not fully restored, though. Sorry.”

“That’s okay.”

Sam popped his lips, tapping on the book in front of him. Maybe he wished he never looked up from reading it. He seemed to be running on empty.

”Maybe you should just hug it out,” Sam had started to suggest, but it was too late. 

Tyres screeched to a halt outside and a very flustered Dean barged inside, door slamming open. His blue denim jacket billowed like white bags of take-away dinner, raised in his fists like weapons. 

”No flirting!” he bellowed. ”Don’t make me use these as nunchucks. And Sam, what the _hell,_ man? We _talked_ about this! You know Cas is off-limits.”

”Dean,” Cas said, rising from his seat. ”I want to have a bee farm with you.”

Dean stopped abruptly. Only the bags swung in another ominous circle around his wrists as his face scrunched up in confusion. _”What?”_

“What?” Sam echoed quietly, just as scandalized. 

”Honey can be stored— wait, first I mean to say my love for you is like _honey_ , because honey can be kept for thousands of years if stored in adequate conditions. My love for you is... _endless_ , Dean.”

Dean kind of just blinked at him. Sam looked like he wasn’t sure what to cry over. Cas hoped it was for the nice speech. Maybe a hint of pride. At least Cas himself felt very confident. 

”Did you know that penguins are monogamous and give each other pebbles as a token of lifelong bond?” Castiel continued with content.

”No,” Dean sputtered, heat rising to his face like it did when he wasn’t sure what to say.

”I know gay penguins steal babies,” Sam supplied. 

”We can steal babies too,” Castiel assured a speechless Dean, who started to look physically injured in the chest. ”I hope you accept my pebble.”

”Wait, woah! A _stone?_ ” Sam screeched incredulously. “Are you _proposing?”_

”No,” Castiel mused thoughtfully, “I don’t think penguins are well-versed with that concept.”

”Jesus fucking christ,” Dean breathed. 

”Again, I don’t see his relevancy,” Cas husked to Sam, eyes narrowed suspiciously. ”Either way. I love you, Dean. It could only be you.”

Dean looked at him in such a way, as if he’d just caressed his cheek, gentle and affectionate; eyelashes fluttering as his face softened into a crooked smile. ”Cas, I—”

”And Siri darkside-Superman’d me,” he added, and Dean literally dropped the bags to the floor. ”Yes, I was shocked too. I meant to say I love _you,_ Dean. Not any other being bearing a male pronoun on Earth. Not Sam. Sorry, Sam,” he directed to the side but Sam vehemently waved him off, so he set his gaze upon Dean again. ”Sam is _family._ And you’re so much more than that to me.”

”Fuck,” Dean stated, breathless. He started to quickly cross the floor in long strides. ”Goddamn it, Feathers. I love you and your stupid noodle so much sometimes.”

”Ew! Keep it PG-13!” Sam shrieked and tipped his chair from the velocity of which he got up and ran out of the room. ”Spare me!”

Dean grinned, seemingly ignoring him, and wrapped his arms around Castiel’s waist. Castiel felt extremely satisfied that this was how they ended up, once again. Maybe he had a great way with words after all.

”You know,” Dean started to say, in that murmur that Cas liked so much, almost like a purr, “you kind of text like you’re fixing Heaven. Very, _headfirst,_ kind of thing. Reckless, one might say.”

”I’m very calculative,” Castiel defended in a rasp. ”Usually.”

”Right. So…” Dean pursed his lips momentarily, like he considered his options. “Can we make up now?”

”Is this the same as _making out?”_

Dean smirked sort of mischievously, and Cas took it as his invitation to lean in for a kiss. All his anxieties melted away with the soft brush of his lips. This was the man he loved. 

”It can be more than that,” Dean told him, leaning back to look him down. ”I uh, kind of wish it was _you_ who was mad at _me,_ so you do that whole thing when you push me up against the wall and be all hot and shit.” He flicked his eyes back at him, explaining with intent. “Angry sex in the end is the only good thing about screwing up. It should follow immediately after.”

”I understand,” Castiel replied, “but perhaps I can entice more anger out of you.” Dean furrowed his brow. “As you mentioned pebbles and _stones_ , I um. Momentarily reshaped Mount Rushmore to say _Dean_ instead.” When Dean’s eyes widened very alarmingly, Castiel shook his head. ”I’ll fix it. Later. But, I think it looks much better this way.”

“Okay, you got me.” Dean grabbed his collar and pulled him towards the bedroom. ”Angry sex. Right now, you wonderful angel son of a bitch, so you’re right about that _later_ because _first_.” He kicked the door to his bedroom. “We need some _payback.”_

Castiel smirked as he stumbled along.

**Author's Note:**

> like the other works in this series I wrote this in under an hour while sleep-deprived and then woke up the next morning laughing at my past self, so that's why I decided to put it into a series. everyone say thank you, author's past self! everyone say thank you, author's girlfriend for sending stupid puns and texts for stupidity inspiration!!
> 
> I also have no idea how this turned out as past tense because I haven't written it like ever but okay


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